


Dasher, Dancer, Prancer, Vixen

by embraidery



Category: Raven Cycle - Maggie Stiefvater
Genre: Christmas, Christmas Eve, Gen, Niall Lynch Is Not Awful For Once, Reindeer, Ronan is about six here, lynch family - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-07
Updated: 2018-05-07
Packaged: 2019-05-03 13:05:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,371
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14569641
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/embraidery/pseuds/embraidery
Summary: This year's Christmas is the first (baby) Ronan has spent without his father. He has high hopes for his father coming back and his chances of seeing a reindeer--will any of it work out for him?





	Dasher, Dancer, Prancer, Vixen

**Author's Note:**

> I did do a bit of research on Irish Christmas traditions, so hopefully that's all good. Prompt by my friend Sheila--it's only taken me 3.5 years! (Just because there are so many ways "Ronan stays up all night waiting for reindeer" could go.)

Christmas Eve at the Barns was usually a nice, warm evening with no surprises. The Lynches would light a candle in the window for Mary and Joseph. They'd all eat a simple, but delicious, dinner with a dessert of oranges. (Ronan still didn't understand why a fruit he had in his lunchbox every week was a Christmas dessert, but his mother insisted, and at this point it was Tradition.) Then they'd move into the living room. Aurora would pass out drinks in everyone's special Christmas mug. Niall would read Christmas stories and do all the voices. After the kids drank every last drop of hot chocolate, Aurora would take them up to bed. She'd tuck them all in, press a kiss to their foreheads, and whisper, “Merry Christmas!” But Ronan's favorite part was when his dad would come in, ruffle Ronan's hair, and close the door after him. They'd get only a few hours of sleep before going to Midnight Mass. As far as Ronan knew, this Christmas would be the same, except for one detail. He would be staying up to see a reindeer. He didn't care about Santa, and he didn't care about the elves. He only had eyes for the creatures with antlers and soft brown eyes.

The morning of Ronan's sixth Christmas Eve, Ronan bounced into the kitchen, slid into the seat beside Matthew, and poured himself a bowl of cereal. He reached over and grabbed a triangle of Matthew's toast. Their mother was sitting in the window nook, twisting a strand of hair around her finger and reading a book over coffee. Declan was tucking into a mess of scrambled eggs.

Ronan did a double-take and looked around the room again. “Mam, where's Dad?”

Aurora looked up slowly, bookmarking her place with one finger. “Oh, he just...he just went out to buy you boys some Christmas chocolates. He'll be back.” She bit her lip and went to the fridge. “Do you want some orange juice?”

Ronan accepted a glass. He watched his mom carefully as she poured juice for Matthew and Declan and then moved back to her place. “What kind of Christmas chocolates?”

She replied, not looking up, “Oh, you know, Santas and that sort of thing...”

Declan looked up from his eggs and juice. “Mam. Dad doesn't buy us chocolate.”

Aurora sighed and set down her book. “Okay, so your dad needed to go do something for his work. You know, he has to work so that you boys can have Christmas presents.”

“But doesn't Santa Claus give us our presents?” Matthew said, gripping his toast so that crumbs showered onto his plate.

 “Yes, but does it make sense to you that Santa could go around the whole world in one night?”

“Well...no,” said Declan.

“But he has elves,” Matthew added helpfully.

“He also has human helpers. All the mammies and daddies in the world help Santa get presents to all the kids, and your dad is one of those helpers.” Aurora smiled sadly at her boys. “He should be home by Mass tonight.” She rested her head on her hand and gazed at the snow outside.

Ronan slouched in his chair. Firstly, his dad was going to miss most of Christmas Eve, and secondly, Ronan would miss Mass! Everyone knew that Santa went around at midnight, and so Ronan would have to be at the house, looking out of a window, at midnight. He didn't want to lie to his mam, and he didn't know how he'd manage it, but it was the only way.

All that long day, Ronan tried hard to act like it was an ordinary day and he wasn't planning to stay up late. He helped put the final touches on the decorations. He sang along to Christmas music. He watched as Matthew lit the candle for Mary. Ronan also secretly watched for his dad. Every once in a while (what he thought was every hour, but was more like every quarter hour) he would go to the window, draw the curtain aside, and scan up and down the street. He'd say something innocent, like “Oh, look, it's snowing,” or “The neighbor's dog got out!” or “Huh, there aren't any birds out there.” But his mother watched from the armchair, perfectly aware of what was going on. She'd wrap her arms around his little shoulders and squeeze, and he'd fight her off. He was six now, and if Declan was going to refuse hugs because he was “too old,” so was Ronan (although only when Declan was in sight).

By bedtime, Ronan had dreamt up and discarded several plans. He couldn't just hide in a remote closet until his family left; they would miss Mass rather than leave the house with no idea where Ronan was. Besides, he didn't have the attention span to sit in a cupboard for an hour. Obviously, he couldn't tell Aurora that he wasn't going. She was a very nice woman and a gentle mother, but Mass wasn't negotiable. She would want to know why Ronan didn't want to go. He decided that he couldn't put a Ronan-shaped decoy in the car; he didn't have a convincing enough dummy on such short notice. Finally, he hit upon the plan. He would pretend to be sick. He had read about other boys who had put on a convincing enough performance to skip school. Ronan hadn't tried it yet, but he thought he could manage it. He could try holding the thermometer above the lamp just before showing it to his mom, and he had a pretty good fake cough. Beyond that, he didn't have a plan. He would have to fly by the seat of his pants.

An hour before they would have gone to bed, Ronan put his plan into action. He casually walked around the living room, coughing occasionally, before he found a puzzle and settled down by the coffee table to put it together. He didn't notice that he put odd pieces together as he strategically coughed, clutched his stomach, and groaned. He disappeared upstairs at one point to slap some color into his cheeks, then came back down.

“Is it hot in here?” he asked, holding a hand to his forehead, checking to make sure his mam could see.

“You have got a pretty thick sweater on,” Aurora said, looking at the ugly reindeer sweater she constantly tried to get Ronan to throw away.

“But it's my favorite sweater,” he said, wrapping his arms around himself. It was from Grandma Lynch, who knitted with plenty of heart and nearly a quarter the amount of talent.

“Well, it's your choice. But if you're feeling warm, it might be better to take it off.”

Ronan stripped off the sweater. A few minutes later, he complained, “I still feel hot.” He stopped pinching his cheeks just as Aurora looked up.

“You do look rather pink,” she said, looking him over. “Let's get the thermometer.” Ronan grinned in triumph as she retrieved the instrument, then panicked as he realized he hadn't had time to artificially warm it.

“I don't want to put it in my mouth!” he said. “I think Dec used it last when he had the flu, and you didn't wash it after he used it! So I'll go wash it.” He snatched it from an amused Aurora and dashed to the bathroom to wash it in hot water.

“Look, I took my own temperature while I was in the bathroom,” Ronan said, showing her the device. “110 degrees!”

 Aurora smothered a laugh, knowing that a fever of 110 degrees Fahrenheit wouldn't leave her Ronan alive. She adopted a serious look. “Well, Ronan, I think you'd best go to bed. I'm sorry you'll miss the Christmas Eve traditions, but I guess there's always next year.”

Ronan paused. He hadn't realized that he would have to miss the bedtime stories. His dad's Grinch voice was one of the highlights of the year. “Well, I don't think I'm that sick,” he began earnestly. “I'll just sit quietly and listen to the Christmas stories. That's okay, right?”

His mother took the thermometer from him and pretended to study it. “I think that a boy as sick as you are needs as much sleep as he can get. And sugar is bad for you when you're sick, so no hot chocolate.” She shepherded him up the stairs. “Time for bed. It'll be Christmas before you know it, and you might feel better in the morning.”

After Aurora left his room, Ronan bemoaned his failed plan. He threw off the covers and went to the window. It was already dark outside, but the snow sparkled in the light coming from the house. He could see the whole lawn from his room at the back of the house. He hoped that Santa would land the sleigh on the lawn rather than on the roof. Ronan decided that that would be the best plan for Santa anyway, as the roof had no flat spaces. He got himself one of the candy bars he stored in the back of his sock drawer and settled down to wait for a long, long time.

The first while was alright. Ronan watched the light bounce off the snow and took small bites of the candy bar. The second while wasn't as fun. He checked his alarm clock every few minutes for the time. It seemed to flow as slowly as molasses on oatmeal. At ten, he decided to read one of his books. He pulled out the Christmas edition of Magic Tree House and got to work, glancing out the window every now and then. At ten-thirty, he began to nod off. He rubbed his eyes and did jumping jacks to keep awake. At eleven, he fell asleep curled up against the window.

Words couldn't describe his disappointment when he woke up on Christmas morning. He awoke suddenly and remembered—it's Christmas!–before he realized that that meant he'd missed Santa's visit. His little shoulders slumped. The year until the next Christmas felt like an eternity. He was about to go curl up in bed and pull the blankets around him to make a Ronan burrito when he remembered that it was, in fact, Christmas. He really wanted to find out what was in the big box that thudded against the sides when he picked it up. He ran over to Declan and Matthew's rooms to see if they were up. Both were missing, so Ronan ran downstairs to see his brothers clustered around the Christmas tree. Aurora stumbled down the staircase, yawning and still in her robe, but their dad was nowhere to be seen.

Aurora got herself a cup of coffee and sat on the couch. “So, boys, Merry Christmas! What should we open first?”

“We can't open presents without Dad,” Ronan said, craning his neck to see up the staircase.

“Oh, Ronan,” Aurora said, and she slid off the couch and gave Ronan a big hug. Matthew and even Declan scooted over and wiggled into the embrace. “I'm afraid Dad won't be back today.” Ronan looked up at her, eyes huge. “I know,” she said softly, rubbing his head. “It'll be okay. Christmas is still Christmas.”

“No it isn't,” said Ronan, and the others nodded.

Aurora sighed and held them for a while. “Just because it's different doesn't mean it's not Christmas.” She chuckled and continued, “Does this all mean you don't want to open gifts?”

“I want presents!” Matthew exclaimed.

Ronan pushed himself up and looked over at the tree. “Maybe just one.” Aurora laughed. Ronan and his brothers took turns opening boxes to find books, crayons, toys, a soccer ball, and a toboggan. They took a brief adjourn for breakfast before suiting up to try out their new sled. The brothers headed out to the tallest hill in the Barns, their mother watching from the doorway. After an hour of determined sledding in which they all rubbed an enormous amount of snow in each other's faces and fell off the sled a record-breaking number of times, the boys trooped back to the house. Aurora made hot chocolate and they all sat in the living room to drink it. Aurora looked over her shoulder, out the window. She set her drink down with a clink on the edge of the table and hurried to the door. Ronan and his brothers were too tired and full of hot chocolate to care.

“Look, boys!” she called.

Declan clambered to his feet and went to join Aurora at the door. “Reindeer!” he gasped. Ronan and Matthew leapt to their feet. Ronan couldn’t speak for all the joy bubbling up in his chest. Reindeer! Two of them milled around outside, both wearing festive harnesses. Ribbons covered in bells were draped over their antlers.

“Dad!” all the boys shouted at once. Niall Lynch grinned and waved as he came into sight around the corner of the house, carrying a big red bag over his shoulder.

Aurora threw out her arms to stop the boys from running out of the house. “Shoes first,” she said sternly, so Niall laughed and came up to the door to fold his sons into a group hug.

“You’re here!” Ronan said.

“I’m here,” he said, smiling and ruffling Ronan’s hair. He winked up at Aurora. “Now, what say we get those boots on so we can say hello to the reindeer?” Ronan threw on his parka and boots before running out to the reindeer. Niall helped boost him up so he could pat their soft noses and gently touch their antlers. Aurora put on her own shoes and brought a camera to take pictures of all three boys sitting on the back of the largest reindeer, lined up like peas in a pod.

“This is the best Christmas ever!” Ronan exclaimed, hugging his dad. The other boys chimed in and joined the group hug; Aurora was persuaded to wrap her arms around her boys, and they all stood there as snow began to fall like powdered sugar on Christmas cookies. Ronan looked up at the moon, still visible in the winter sky. “Thank you,” he whispered. “Thank you.”


End file.
